


La Douleur Exquise

by TonyStarkIsARobot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is Scott's half-brother, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonyStarkIsARobot/pseuds/TonyStarkIsARobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn’t like coffee. In fact, he hates it. Can’t stand the taste, can’t stand the smell. But the only reason he’s sucking it down like it’s air is because of Scott’s half-brother Derek. Scott’s college-aged older half-brother who needs help with his second year mythology final in the form of an essay.</p><p>Scott’s older half-brother who Stiles has been in love with ever since he can remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Douleur Exquise

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey! I've had this floating around for a while and I figured since it's been a long time since I've posted anything... Here you go!

Stiles doesn’t like coffee. In fact, he hates it. Can’t stand the taste, can’t stand the smell. But the only reason he’s sucking it down like it’s air is because of Scott’s half-brother Derek. Scott’s college-aged older half-brother who needs help with his second year mythology final in the form of an essay.

Scott’s older half-brother who Stiles has been in love with ever since he can remember.

So high school senior Stiles is up at three in the morning frantically compiling all of the information he can from every reliable source he can find on the internet. Everyone knows that Stiles is a wiz kid with epic Google-fu (who just so happens to have his own final in Chemistry tomorrow and hasn’t slept or studied even a little bit) but not everyone will get to take advantage of that. 

Derek hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t had to ask. Stiles heard him complaining to his best friends Isaac and Boyd over the phone about how he was so screwed because he just couldn’t find anything useful and Stiles’ mind was made up.

At first he’d used Adderall to keep himself awake. The abuse of his ADHD medication had started around four in the afternoon and ended somewhere around midnight when his heart started beating too fast and he began to notice his hands shaking. Then he’d gone straight to coffee and downed six cups. He’s just about switch to Mountain Dew (the drink of the gods) when his cell phone rings. Who the fuck would be calling him at three in the morning?

“Hello?” he answered, not even bothering to look at the caller ID first. Stiles’ throat is dry and he’s dehydrated and he probably sounds like shit.

“Hey - Oh shit, did I wake you up?” Derek. Holy God. Derek freaking Hale (he’d adopted his father’s last name to honor his memory) was calling him at three in the morning.

“Uh no! No, not at all! I was already up!” Stiles scrambles to respond, straightening in his chair even though Derek can’t see him.

“You were already up at three A.M.?” He sounds incredulous and Stiles really can’t blame him. Most normal people wouldn’t be up that early for much of anything. Other than going pee, probably. Or - if you’re Stiles’ dad - working.

“Derek, you have known me for almost eighteen years. Does this really surprise you? Besides, I have a Chem final tomorrow. Gotta study, don’t I?” He really freaking hopes Derek doesn’t call him out on his bullshit. Derek is really good at that - and for some reason he’s only good at that with Stiles.

“... Yeah you’re right. You’ve definitely done weirder things. You haven’t been abusing your meds again, have you?” Stiles hears rustling in the background and all he can think of is Derek naked in bed and laying on his back with one arm under his head and the phone cradled to his ear with the other and the sheets slip juuust far enough that - 

“Huh? Wha-? Oh, of course not! You impugn my honor, good sir.” Stiles did his best to sound offended even though he knows he missed the mark. He’s got his attention split four ways right now, so giving a legitimate - and convincing - emotional response is a little difficult.

Derek sighs on the other end of the line.

“Stiles, you know how I feel about you doing that. It’s dangerous. Remember the last time you overdosed? I had to take you to the hospital! You were admitted for three days, Stiles. Three days.”

Stiles still feels terrible and guilty about that. Derek had stayed with him the whole time because his dad had been out of town. He rubs his eyes in an attempt to dispel the memories of that awful experience - and the look on Derek’s face when he found Stiles flushed, shivering, and twitching on the floor in his room, trying desperately to unclench his teeth and catch his breath.

“I know Derek... But it wasn’t as much this time! And I just really needed to study. I’m having a hard time with Harris still and I just want to pass. But that’s not the point. Why are you calling me this early? Not that I’m complaining, you’re not really the night owl type, man. That’s more Scott’s thing.” Stiles’ word document full of compiled research for Derek is nearing fifty pages with each page dedicated to information from one source. It’s like a book. He plans to convert it to a pdf and then Derek can flip through it on his computer.

“I couldn’t sleep. And I was kind of hoping for your advice on something,” Derek says. And Stiles... Stiles isn’t expecting that. He knows Derek had a hard time even getting those words out of his mouth - he still thinks Derek only tolerates his existence because Stiles keeps Scott out of his hair.

“Uh...,” Stiles says stupidly, blinking a few times in disbelief, “Sure... I can do my best. I mean, I’m probably shit for that right now... Tomorrow after I get out of school?”

“Okay. Um... I’ll pick you up from your house and we can go to the coffee shop in town or something.”

Wait. What? Derek was asking him to go get coffee with him? And he was even going to pick him up?! WHAT. Stiles isn’t even pretending to focus on anything other than his phone right now. Is this... Was he... Oh God. Is Derek taking him on a date? Why did he sound so unsure? Was he nervous? HOLY GOD DEREK HALE IS NERVOUS ABOUT TAKING STILES STILINSKI ON A DATE. WHAT.

“Uh... S-sure. I’ll be home at, like, two forty-five,” Stiles manages to stutter out. It takes considerable effort to string together a semi-coherent sentence.

“Great! I’ll see you then. And Stiles? Get some sleep,” Derek says before hanging up.

Stiles stares at his phone. For a while. He’s sort of in a stupor... That he manages to pull himself out of with force. He decides he should listen to Derek and try to sleep, numbly saving what he has done for Derek. (Derek’s still got a month before he has to hand in his twenty-five page paper so Stiles has time - he was just trying to get it to Derek as soon as possible.)

Despite his best efforts, Stiles doesn’t fall asleep until fiveish. He gets about an hour and a half of sleep. But that doesn’t matter because when he wakes up, he remembers that Derek is going to pick him up and they’re going to get coffee and it’s going to be wonderful because Derek feels the same way Stiles does and he just... He never thought it would happen, that’s all.

See, in general terms, Stiles looks at it like this:

Derek fits the traditional definitions of ‘hot’. He’s got abs. He’s built like a fucking wall. He’s only about an inch taller than Stiles, but he’s still tall. He’s got eyes that don’t even have a fucking color category because they’re never the same color. The stubble across his perfectly sculpted chin is just enough to frame his face and accentuate his... manliness without it being a full on beard. Not to mention his fucking teeth... Ugh. Derek’s sort of perfect.

Stiles fits the traditional definitions of ‘cute’. ‘Cute’ has come to mean ugly but fuckable. He’s got moles all over his body. He’s lanky with a subtle layer of musculature. His eyes are a golden brown but are more... fawn like than Derek’s mercurial irises. His hair is buzz cut - in deference to his mother - but it’s not a popular style choice. Sure he’s got nice fingers. But he’s clumsy. Can’t walk on flat ground even on a good day. He runs his mouth too much, he knows. So yeah. He’s not very attractive - like, at all - but he’s apparently attractive enough to at least warrant a handjob. As long as he wears a paper bag over his head. And a gag to shut him up.

Stiles contemplates these stark differences while listening to his calculus teacher drone on and on about shit that clearly no one cares about. Seriously. If people just read the freakin’ textbook, all the mysteries of the world would be solved. Just ask Lydia. She’s read it cover to cover.

Scott catches Stiles daydreaming in Chemistry and throws a ball of paper at his head to get his attention. Just in time for Harris to ask him a question. Luckily the question was about things that will explode - a subject Stiles considers himself well versed in, considering he’s been friends with Scott McCall practically since potty training. (Okay, it was actually first grade but close enough!)

Scott. Shit. Scott has absolutely zero idea about Stiles’ mondo crush on his sexy older half-brother. And Scott is going to ask him why he’s so distracted. Double shit. Stiles really hates lying to Scott... Not to mention Scott is just as able to pick up on Stiles’ shit as Derek is. It must be some sort of freaky family gene that comes from Melissa. But... Stiles doesn’t have to tell the WHOLE truth. He can tell a half-truth. Those he’s good with. Mostly.

When Scott catches him at his locker at lunch time, he has this look on his face that says he’s both confused and thinking. Stiles finds it kind of adorable, actually. His nose scrunches up and his eyes go all squinty and it’s kind of like he’s a kitten with a ball of yarn that he just can’t unravel. Stiles patiently waits for him to find the words he’s looking for. (He’s had practice.)

“So... You’ve been distracted all day. Which for you isn’t weird but, dude, what’s up? Did you forget to take your pills or something?” Scott eventually manages to get out. Stiles almost feels like a proud papa.

“Uh... Nothing’s up and no, I didn’t forget to take my pills. I... I actually have a date after school. Just been distracted with that, I guess,” Stiles tries, rubbing a hand over his buzzed hair from the back to the front.

Scott’s face lights up like a freakin’ Christmas tree. It’s almost sad how much he resembles some sort of cute baby animal.

“Really?! Who’s it with? When is it? You guys should total double with Allison and I!” Sometimes Stiles really wonders if Allison wears the pants in their relationship. Because Scott sure as Hell doesn’t. Stiles rolls his eyes at his best friend and shakes his head with a small smirk.

“Nobody really, just some guy. It’s after school. No offence Scott, but this is the first date. I do not want his opinion of me to be formed based on the company I keep. Especially if Allison gives him the ‘you hurt my boyfriend’s best friend and I’ll have a crossbow aimed at your junk so fast’ smile. Like she did Danny. Twice. And Danny wasn’t even dating me. He just came to hang out.”

Scott looks sheepish and ducks his head just a tad, apologizing for his girlfriend’s sometimes overzealous behavior. She can’t help how much she loves and wants to protect her friends! Plus it’s hardly Scott’s fault she’s an Olympics grade archer.

“Look, let me go out with this guy first. Okay? Then we’ll see about a double or whatever sometime. But for right now we have to get to Econ. before Finstock makes us look at more pictures of his junk while he asks us if it looks like a rash. Seriously, you would think the guy would get arrested,” Stiles rambles, officially taking Scott’s attention away from his date. Stiles knows his friend so well. 

They’re late to Econ. This time it’s Finstock’s nipples. Stiles doesn’t think even a woman has seen as much of their coach as his students and team have. How is he still allowed to be a teacher again?

-  
Stiles drives at breakneck speeds to get home - in fact, he’s really lucky his dad or one of his deputies doesn’t catch him and pull him over. He has exactly twenty minutes to get home and get re-dressed before Derek Hale (holy God) picks him up for their coffee date. Stiles hasn’t even begun to look through his closet. This could end in disaster. It probably will end in disaster. But at least Stiles will die happy. Mostly. 

He dives out of his Jeep and skids to a stop in front of his front door. After some very artistic and slightly acrobatic feats of wonder, Stiles manages to unlock the door and tumble inside. He’s down to thirteen minutes and panicking like it’s the end of the world. (In some ways, it is!)

Stiles manages to get up the stairs and to his room without tripping or smashing himself into anything - which is actually pretty damn impressive for him. With much flailing and tripping and so much banging he’s surprised the neighbors haven’t called the cops for burglary, Stiles is finally dressed. It’s nothing too casual, just a green plaid shirt with a black t-shirt underneath and the nicest pair of stonewash jeans he owns. 

While Stiles is sitting at his kitchen table, tapping his leg as he waits for Derek’s car to pull up outside, he kind of lets his mind wander (because he forgot to take his next dose) a bit.

-

Little seven year-old Stiles decided that he didn’t want to play with Scott anymore. Derek was twelve and cool and grown-up and Scott was just a baby. So while Scott was rolling around in the grass, Stiles got up and bounced up the stairs and into the McCall family home.

It didn’t take him long to find Derek - he usually liked to read on the window seat in the living room - so when he did, Stiles just sat down in front of the window seat and stayed still and quiet. (Derek used to be his Adderall). Derek gave him a few side-glances and some glares but Stiles didn’t go anywhere or say anything.

Finally, after what seemed like forever to Stiles, Derek patted the end of the window seat and Stiles hopped up with a big grin on his face. Stiles didn’t say anything to Derek still, wanting to give him the peace and quiet he knew Derek liked. (Because Derek was bigger and older and more mature, obviously).

Eventually Derek looked up at Stiles with the eyebrow he’d taken to raising lately and asked him what exactly he wanted. Derek didn’t really find Stiles annoying... Stiles was actually a pretty good kid around Derek. Even when Derek had to babysit him.

“Derek, are you gonna get married?” Stiles asked him, his head cocked to the side while he played idly with his jeans. Derek blinked down at his young companion with a hint of surprise and more confoundment than anything.

“Um, maybe someday when I’m a grown-up. Why?”

“‘Cause I wanna marry you,” Stiles said honestly.

“Stiles, you hafta marry a girl.” At this Stiles pouted.

“I don’ want a girl. You’re big and strong and smart and funny and daddy says he thinks you’re a good... in... infwerlence!” Stiles exclaimed. Derek gave him a crinkly-eyed smile and ducked his head shyly before nodding.

“Okay, Stiles. We can get married when we’re grown-ups,” he conceded.

“Promise?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“I promise. Here, give me your pinky,” Derek said, reaching out to hook his own with Stiles’ tiny one, “Now it’s a real promise.” The smile Stiles gave him was as bright and blinding as any seven year-old’s could be and the young boy flung himself at his best friend’s older brother for a hug.

“Tanks, Derek. You’re the bestest!” Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and ruffled his hair - something Stiles would only let Derek and his own mother do.

“Even better than Scott?”

“Waaaay better than Scott!”

-

Stiles is pulled from his happy revelry to the sound of Derek knocking on his door and calling him from outside. Stiles wonders just how long he’s been knocking without Stiles’ notice as he scrambles - and subsequently trips over himself - to get to the front door.

“Hi! Hey. Sorry. Spacing...,” he starts as he takes in all of Derek’s hot, leather jacketed glory, “out.” When Derek answers, Stiles can tell he’s just rolled his eyes. But he sounds amused so Stiles will count that as one point in his corner.

“Stiles. My face? It’s up here.”

Stiles snaps out of his ‘holy-God-how-is-that-real-he’s-photoshopped-I-just-want-to-climb-it-like-a-tree-and-lick-it’ trance, turning an interesting shade of pink. He’d call it more of a mauve color given his lightly sun-kissed complexion, but semantics really.

“Huh? Oh yeah, totally, sorry my bad,” Stiles rambles while he closes his front door behind him. “Alright. Let’s get this heavily caffeinated show on the road in your beautiful beast of a machine that you call a car.” Derek rolls his eyes again, a fond smile on his lips as he hops in the driver’s seat. Stiles takes a second to get himself together before following suit and getting in the passenger seat of the sleek Camaro.

“I’m really starting to rethink the coffee shop idea. You on caffeine is usually never a good thing,” Derek comments.

“Hey, I resent that! You were talking to me on quite a few cups of coffee last night, jerkface.” Stiles pretends to be offended but he can’t be anything other than ecstatic right now.

“Exactly. I don’t understand how you’re still present and coherent right now.”

“Derek Hale, you’ve known me for roughly fifteen years. You should know that I am never completely present or coherent. And most of the time I don’t need to be because everyone is aware of the fact that my filter doesn’t work anyways. I say unto you in the words of my uncle,” Stiles says, making a karate chop motion with his next words, “Suck it!” The karate chop comes down and hits the dashboard in true Stiles fashion. Derek just glances over with that stupid raised caterpillar of an eyebrow while Stiles shakes his hand out and tries desperately not to curse Derek’s ancestors into dishonor.

“How’d that feel, Iron Chef Stilinski?”

“Oh screw you, Hale,” Stiles groans, nursing his poor abused appendage.

“Sure. When and where?” Derek gives him an almost predatory smile and Stiles is left floundering. How in the Hell is he supposed to respond to that? Luckily he’s saved from having to by their arrival at the only cosy little cafe that isn’t Starbucks in town. Stiles has money in his pocket, just in case. He’s not really sure how a date works, a date between two guys especially. He doesn’t see why it should be any different and since he straddles the fence but has yet to play ball, he has no experience on either side.

Stiles and Derek sidle up to the counter, shoulders bumping in a way that Stiles takes to be flirty and he has to bite his lip to keep from grinning like a total idiot. He’s not a twelve year-old girl at a Justin Beiber concert! Get it together, Stilinski! Derek orders a coffee - black, one sugar - and orders Stiles a triple caramel latte with extra whipped cream on top.

Stiles didn’t even have to tell him what he wanted. 

Derek just knew.

Derek is paying for his coffee.  
Holy fucking Robin balls, Batman! SCORE ONE FOR THE STILINSKINATOR! (Copyright, trademark Stiles Stilinski). 

Derek thanks the woman and gives her a small smile - not like the ones he gives Stiles, thank you very much - and takes their drinks. Stiles leads him to a small table in the corner so they can talk without being overheard too easily by any snooping parties. (Hey, Mrs. Greenberg is one Hell of a vulture, okay?)

The boys sit there for a few minutes, just sipping their warm drinks. Derek has a certain twinkle in his eye that Stiles has come to translate as amusement and mirth. Stiles is alright with both of these. But eventually the silence gets to him.

“So. What’d you need my advice on?” Stiles casually remarks, looking Derek in the eyes and giving him what he hopes is a ‘yes-I’m-listening-but-I’m-thinking-about-your-dick’ look. Somehow he thinks he’s fallen short.

“Oh, right. Well, uh. This is kind of awkward, actually. But you know my romantic history,” by this Derek means his crazy ex-girlfriend Kate who had messed Derek up so bad that he had to go to outpatient therapy for depression for almost a year, “and it isn’t good.” What an understatement. “But I’m trying to jump back in and I wanted to know how... There’s this guy that I’m, uh, interested in... And I am really not sure how to go about it.” Derek looks awkward as he tries to get the words out but he keeps looking up sheepishly at Stiles and Stiles can’t help the way his heart beats just a little faster.

“Have you tried using your usual lines?” It’s a dumb suggestion - since Derek clearly doesn’t have any usual lines - but Stiles has to try because maybe it’ll make Derek laugh. Stiles lowers his voice a bit and says, “Hi. My name is Derek Hale and I’m attractive and broody.” It does its job because Derek cracks a smile at him and shakes his head.

“Yeah. He’s aware of all that and he doesn’t care. Those things really aren’t a big deal to him.”

“Ooookaaay... Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Stiles suggests, taking another sip of his beverage to avoid the flush threatening to creep up on him again.

“I’ve... I’ve known him for a long time. And I’m not really sure the direct approach is the right way to go,” Derek sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with a huge hand.

“Hm... Maybe you just have to figure out what’s a big deal to him and make it a big deal to you?” Stiles suggests a tad uncertainly. Derek looks up at him and for a second Stiles thinks that he could go blind if that smile was the last thing he saw. Because holy shit beautiful much? Then Derek does something very un-Derek (which is even better for Stiles) and leans over to press a big kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

“Stiles, you are... amazing.”

Stiles, of course, lights up like a freakin’ Christmas tree. A bright red, stammering, idiot of a Christmas tree. But Derek is still grinning at him and Stiles has had the wind knocked out of him by the sheer force of beautiful that’s being aimed his way. Derek keeps his hand on Stiles’ arm for another minute or so before finishing his coffee and throwing the cup away. “You ready to go?” Stiles wants to say no. He wants to never, ever leave this awesome moment. Because that’s what it is. Completely and totally awesome.

“Uh yeah, sure!” Stiles blubbers, flailing up to throw his own cup out. 

-

Stiles is so freaking gone on Derek Hale. Seriously. Even his dad notices the way he seems to float on Cloud Nine for the rest of the week. Wisely - of course - he doesn’t comment. Instead he just leaves a condom on the table with a note that says: ‘Use it wisely, Young Skywalker’. Sometimes Stiles really loves his dad.

As much as the condom and the implication of the condom embarrasses him, he’s still glad it’s not a severed wampa arm. Or the cut open carcass of a taun-taun (Stiles is warm enough, thank you).

So yes. The date with Derek Hale went amazingly. There was a kiss on the cheek and a good-bye hug and a brilliant smile and a five dollar coffee. Stiles is more than willing to put that tally in the ‘date’ category. 

This week has just been amazing for Stiles. Tuesday was the coffee date with Derek, Wednesday was the day he found out he’d be playing first line for Friday’s game, and Friday was when Derek showed up in the crowd. At Stiles’ game. To watch Stiles.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

What is more important to Stiles Stilinski than lacrosse? Almost nothing! Almost! Nothing!

Despite being a benchwarmer for the rest of the season before this game, Stiles tries his hardest to be as fast and as nimble as he can be. His hand-eye coordination is the best it’s ever been. He doesn’t trip or stumble. He does fall a few times but that’s because some huge fucking giant decides to tackle him the first time.

Stiles makes four goals. 

After his fourth goal, he hears Derek cheering for him and looks over to him with a big smile on his face.  
Stiles doesn’t even see the freaking kid coming. One minute he’s headed towards the net with a ball in his stick (hehehehe) and then next he’s laying flat out on the ground and desperately trying to breathe.

He must blackout for a few seconds because the next time he opens his eyes, he’s got Scott on one side of him and Derek on the other with his dad and Melissa McCall at his feet. Derek looks absolutely terrified and Scott doesn’t look much better. But Stiles has seen Scott looking like that. He’s never seen Derek looking like that and it makes Stiles want to cry just a little bit. If he could breathe, that is. So instead he just fumbles the ground a bit and finds Derek’s hand. Derek clings to his hand for dear life and Stiles does a mental fist pump, even in his hour of need.

Stiles is home by four in the morning. Apparently the giant that decided to body check him earlier didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t stayed down. So of course the logical Neanderthal thought process was to clothesline Stiles with his fucking stick. 

Any higher and Stiles would have broken his neck.

Any lower and it would have been part of his spine.

The kid is lucky his dad didn’t shoot him on the spot. As it stands he’s old enough to be tried as an adult so he can say goodbye to whatever college wanted a steroid injecting behemoth of a lacrosse player.

Asshole.

Derek stays with him the whole night. Derek insists on driving Stiles home and he helps him out to the car, making little distressed sounds every time he catches a glimpse of the livid purple and black bruises that adorn the front of Stiles’ neck. Every time he makes one of those sounds, Stiles just squeezes his hand or pats his back, whichever is closest.

Stiles’ dad is at the station - probably doing his best not to kill the little pissworm - so Derek tells Stiles he’ll be staying to watch over him. Stiles bites his lip to hide his pleased grin. If he’d known getting injured would get Derek to be his nurse, he would have broken shit much sooner!

The doctor gave Stiles strict instructions. He wasn’t allowed to talk and could only eat soft foods. For the first few nights, the doc wanted someone to be close to him while he slept. There’s still a pretty big chance his throat could collapse if he isn’t careful.

So Stiles’ dad is at the station, Melissa needed to pull a double shift to make up for the fact that she got Stiles expedited through the Emergency Room, and Scott was apparently using the ‘my best friend could have died’ sob routine to get into Allison’s pants. If Derek’s eyeroll and slightly pissed off eyebrow wiggle means anything.

Which it so totally does.

So Derek makes himself a little bed next to Stiles’ - Stiles protests, trying to gesture that there’s enough room for the both of them but Derek just says he doesn’t want to risk accidentally touching his throat - at four in the morning. When Stiles is on the cusp of sleep and his arm falls off the side of the bed, Stiles is almost completely sure that he feels Derek holding his hand.

Fuck. Yes.


End file.
